A Woman Scorned
by valonqar
Summary: Cheated. Humiliated. Out for revenge.  After Lysander Scamander bolts on their wedding day, Rose Weasley is about as scorned as a woman can get, and with the help of Scorpius Malfoy and a little luck, she's going to get her revenge no matter what.
1. Chapter 1

The room is flawless. Every window in the hall is trimmed with ivory satin drapes, complimenting the ebony silk bow's that have been tied around them to keep them in place perfectly. There are bouquets of white roses, arranged completely symmetrical to each other, lining the isle, which was covered in a scattered array of petals from the same flowers with the occasional red petal tossed in to add contrast and a flash of color. The seats are made of the same flawless satin as on the windows, and the same beautiful bows are tied around them _just so_. Were a stranger to walk in at any moment, one who was unaware of what was going on in the next room, he might think it was a wedding for a royal, or a celebrity, or at the very least someone who was _incredibly_ important, not to mention rich.

That stranger would be correct in assuming so, because this wedding was to be for someone incredibly important. However, were this stranger a very perceptive sort of person, he might notice how the petals on the isle are completely intact, or how there isn't a wrinkle present on the satin-covered chair. He might take into account the fact that there isn't a single wedding guest to be seen, and how even though it's more than clear that no wedding has taken place, there's a caretaker in the corner who's beginning to take down the drapes.

And pick up the petals.

And throw out the roses.

Yes, if this stranger happened to be one with a keen eye and a sharp mind, he would realize that no wedding had, nor would, occur in that hall today.

Now, if our stranger was also the curious type of folk, or simply one who wasn't a fan of standing still for too long, he might decide to talk a walk. If luck was on his side - or exactly the opposite, depending on how you look at it - he may happen upon another room in that very same building. A dressing room, filled with witches in short, black dresses forming a circle around one incredibly distraught white-clad bride.

It is upon seeing _that_, if our stranger has half a brain in his head, he would turn and run.

****

Rose Weasley was standing in the doorway of the hall, watching the men work. She was fighting the urge to yell at them to stop, tell them that he'll be there soon, he's just running late! It was lucky that she inherited her mother's logical mind, because right now it was only the Granger side of her brain that was stopping her from insisting that the wedding was still on, and was the only thing that had given her the strenghth to take off the atrocity of a wedding dress Luna had made for her and shove it into the furthest corner of the room.

Lysander wasn't coming back for her. The note had been clear enough, almost _too_ clear, now that she thought about it. It was blunt to the point of being rude, but written in her ex-fiancee's unmistakably flawless script that made the words engrave that much deeper into her mind.

_Rose,_

_ I cannot marry you. I fear my feelings for you have changed greatly since the initial engagement, and I can string you along no longer. I have left, but of my own accord, so please do not attempt to follow me or pursue me. I do not wish to be found._

_ Please give my ring to the owl, and she will return it to me. As you know, it was my grandmothers, and it is of great importance that I get it back. Also, please tell my mother that I shall be writing to her shortly._

_ Lysander_

And that had been that. No apology for humiliating her on what was meant to be the happiest day of her life, no heartfelt _'I will always cherish the time we spent together'_, nothing except the demand she return the engagement ring and a message he wished to relay to his mother. It was so typically Lysander that she nearly laughed when she first received it, although that laugh quickly turned into a hiccup, which took mere seconds to evolve into a waterfall of tears. Within seconds she was surrounded by a flurry of consoling bridesmaids, with her mother in the back of the room yelling out every foul curse in the book.

She hadn't wanted their comfort, though. What she had really wanted to do was kick them all out on their arses and tell her mum to go get some fresh air, but she found herself unable to speak without choking on her own tears. It wasn't even the fact that he left that was upsetting her, it was the mere _embarrassment_ of the whole situation, and the anger at herself for letting her fall for someone who was clearly nothing but a self-absorbed prick.

It had taken Rose hours to calm down, but as soon as the tears stopped flowing she had sent everyone home before stepping out of the room herself, pleased to see that none of the guests were present. That would have been the absolute last thing she needed: having to answer an onslaught of questions and her thousands more "comforting" phrases from near strangers - or worse, have to come face-to-face with members of the Scamander family. Merlin seemed to have cut her a little slack at that moment, however, because there was no one in sight except the crew who had come to clean up the near-wedding.

And it was there, in that doorway that she had stood for hours, watching them with a mild interest as her mind wandered elsewhere. She thought back to the day she had first met Lysander, their first date, first kiss, first fight, first break-up, first time getting back together, first...well, first _time_. He had been all of her firsts, she realized with a slight start. He had been all of her firsts, every single one, and he hadn't even given her the decency of a proper break-up.

Rose rolled her eyes. _Typical Lysander_.

In all honesty, she was past the point of being _sad_ about his departure. That was another quality which was inherited from her parents, although this particular one was from both sides of the family. They didn't waste their time being sad - instead, in the usual Weasley/Granger fashion, they got angry.

And she was most certainly angry.

Memories, little scenes from their relationship continued to flash through her mind at an alarming pace, until one began to play more often than the others. She willed her mind to stop on that one, more out of curiosity than anything, and leaned against the doorway, eyes fluttering shut.

_-flashback-_

_"Lysander? Is that you?" the redhead called from the kitchen upon hearing the front door open, poking her head out into the hall. Her fiancee's lean frame wandered into view and she smiled broadly at him, grin spreading as he gave her a quick wink. "How was your day, love?"_

_"Usual," he said, shrugging as he flipped through the day's mail. "The Minister came in, gave us an 'inspirational' speech on how our work was changing the world for the better, and then we sat around in our desks and played cards until the day was done. I can't remember the last time we've actually had a chance to go out on the field. Just no need for aurors these days, I suppose." Lysander turned, pushing his dirty blonde hair back from his face before beckoning her to come closer. "I missed you,"_

_Rose flushed, walking towards him with that same school-girl feeling fluttering around her stomach. How was it possible he still made her feel like that, after all the years they had been together? It was something she asked herself every day but never managed to find the answer to, and really she felt that she was perfectly fine not knowing. As long as he continued to make her happy, she didn't mind at all._

_It was only when he pulled her into his arms and her head was nuzzled into his neck that she noticed something unusual. Something...floral._

_"Ly?" She leaned her head back off of his chest to get a better view of his face, confusion written all over it. "Why do you smell like flowers? And..." leaning forward, Rose took another sniff and wrinkled her nose. "Sweat? What on earth were you doing?"_

_He was silent for a moment, and if Rose had been looking at his hand she would have seen it shaking like a leaf. But his face was smooth, and there was a sweet, almost patronizing smile on his face as he looked down at her. She chewed her lip, wishing he would just say something to fill the silence, but all he did was shake his head and lean back against the wall._

_"Rosie," he said a few moments later, speaking to her as if she was a child. "You know I eat my lunch at Hogsmeade, and you know how hot out it was today. I was walking through the streets - sweating like a pig, I might add - and that batty lady from the beauty shop assaulted me with her stupid new perfume. That's all." Placing his hands on her shoulders, his blue eyes bore into her brown ones, and spoke slowly. "You have nothing to worry about with me. Ever."_

_And with a kiss on her forehead, he was gone._

_-flashback-_

Oh.

Of _course_.

She was an idiot. A stupid, daft bimbo, the kind she made fun of all the time for being so completely and totally thick. It was _obvious_. It had been right in front of her face the whole sodding time, and she had been too blinded by "love" to even see it until now. Merlin, how could she not have noticed? The perfume, the late nights at work, coming home smelling like sweat and who-knew-what-else. It was clear as day.

He had been cheating on her.

That was _it_. The last straw, the end of the line. Leaving her on her wedding day because he didn't love her? That was enough. But leaving her on her wedding day because he had been cheating on her with some floral-smelling bitch? No way in heaven, hell, or anywhere in between was he going to get away with that. A plan was already formulating in her mind, one that was going to end this damn thing for good.

She was going to get her revenge, and she knew just the person to help her get it.

After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scored, and Rose Weasley was most definitely one of those women.


	2. Chapter 2

"The hell are you doing here, Weasley? Or should I say, _Scamander_?"

Rose couldn't help but flinch inwardly upon hearing that name spoken, although she wouldn't allow him to see her discomfort. Instead, she chose to smile up at him sweetly, attempting to gain herself a little sympathy points with her ex-schoolmate and ex...whatever they had been.

Back at Hogwarts, Rose and Scorpius had had a _complex_ relationship. Best of friends one minute, mortal enemies the next. He would be charming, sweet, and everything a boy should be, and then something would cause him to snap and turn into a horrible, selfish little prat whom she would have loved nothing more than to punch right in his smirking little face, just like her mum had done to his father all those years ago. It wasn't until fifth year, during one of her many breaks with Lysander, that their on-and-off friendship evolved into something more, when a very heated fight in the Gryffindor common room over quidditch lead to an even more heated snogging session. These romps continued for as long as Lysander and herself were on a break, paused every time the couple got back together, and resumed every time they broke up. It was the perfect system, and the best part about it was that it was their little secret.

Then everything went to shit.

_-flashback-_

_It was her last day of seventh year, and Rose was in a hurry to make it out of the castle. She had promised Ly she would make it out for a romantic picnic under the stars, and she planned to keep true to her word - even if she was already twenty minutes late._

_Ly wouldn't mind, she knew he wouldn't. He would simply give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her that she was worth the wait, and then he would hold her tightly in his big, strong arms, tell her that she looked beautiful, and she wouldn't even be able to deny it, no matter how much she wanted to. That was just how he made her feel, simple as that. He made her feel beautiful, like the flower she was named after, and he made her feel special, like she was the only woman walking on the plant earth. He did it all, and he did it all because he loved her. _

_And that was that._

_Or, of course, she assumed that was that. Rose was certainly not expecting Scorpius Malfoy to push himself off of the wall as she passed, stepping in front of her with a look of pure fury and, quite honestly, the urge to muder her, or any innocent firsties that might have been walking by at the time. She couldn't help it - she gulped, knowing what was coming. She had managed to avoid him for weeks, wanting to make sure this particular moment never happened, but now that he had cornered her it was obvious what was about to happen._

_"You can't go back to him," he spat, the word 'him' leaving his mouth like he couldn't even bring himself to say Lysander's name. "He treats you like shit, Rosie, and you know it. He strings you along, dumps you for a month so he can shag half of the girls in the castle, then reels you back in with some sweet words and a kiss on the cheek. The guy's a scumbag, and I won't let you take him back." Scorpius had crossed his arms over his chest, still clearly furious but now looking more like a pouty child than anything else. They had had this exact conversation multiple times, and by this point she had figured out exactly what to say to him to get him to shut up long enough for her to make a quick exit. Sighing, she stared him down and shook her head._

_"Like you're any different?" she said, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Really, after all this time he should have known what she was about to say. "After I'm emotionally battered when my boyfriend dumps me, you hook up with me as much as you're little heart desires, taking advantage of my state of distress. Then, as soon as he wants me back you act like your fine about it, then flip out on me a month later. You're just as bad as Ly, if not worse, and you know it."_

_With that she turned to leave, knowing it would leave him effectively speechless for at least a minute. A minute was exactly the right amount of time to get her ass out of the castle and towards her boyfriend, and that was what she was planning on doing right then and there._

_That was, of course, until he called back for her._

_"There's one difference, you know." She turned around, confused as he had been just moments before, and he grinned. "Between me and your little lover boy, there's one difference. I actually love you."_

_And then he left._

_For the first time in her life, Rose Weasley was completely and totally speechless._

_-flashback- _

That had been five years ago. Five years since the last time she had seen Scorpius Malfoy's face, and five years since he had told her he loved her. Now here she was, on his doorstep, prepared to ask him for possibly the biggest favor she had ever asked anyone in her entire life.

Yeah, this was going to go well.

The door opened, revealing a tall, built man, with broad shoulders, light blonde hair, and stormy blue eyes that currently held a look of pure and utter confusion not similar to the one on her face the last night they spoke. She begged herself to say something, _anything_, to this stranger standing in front of her, but at the moment the only thought she found was running through her mind was..._wow._

Because if one thing was certain, Scorpius was no longer the boy he had once been back in their Hogwarts days. He wasn't a boy at all, actually. He was a _man_, no question about it, a man with sharp cheekbones and well defines muscles, and...

Merin, she was staring, she _knew _she was staring, but she couldn't help herself. Rose saw the look on his face it was the same one he had back in their school days. Cocky, arrogant, annoying, and everything in between. It was that face, that attitude that made their friendship - or relationship, whatever you want to call it - so impossible. Rose was a modest, simple, easy-going girl, and Scor was, and always would be a cocky little bugger. Before it had mainly been because of his family, the way he was raised, but now that he had grown into his angular features and lanky body, well, he definitely had an excuse.

She hated him for it.

"Still Weasley, actually. That's part of the reason I'm here." Sighing, she pushed her hair off her face, afraid it was sticking to her forehead due to the summer heat. There was a bit of a heat wave in London, and in her opinion it was more annoying than anything. It made her red hair puff up into a frizzy mess like her mothers, and that was _not_ how she wanted to look the first time she saw Scor in five years. "Mind if I come in?"

He paused for a moment, contemplating her request. Honestly she wouldn't have blamed him if he had given her the boot. If anything, she might have been a little relieved, seeing as how the longer she stayed there, the worse her idea seemed. Rose was seconds away from turning and leaving when the man in front of her stepped back, pulling the door to his little flat open and beckoning her inside. "Don't suppose I should leave you in that heat," he muttered, shaking his head. "You already look like you've run a marathon."

Rose wasn't sure whether she wanted to punch him or hug him.

**xx**

He was laughing. She had told him everything, including the part about Lysander leaving her with nothing but a note on their wedding day, and he was_ laughing at her_.

"Glad you find the misery that has become my life so sodding funny," she mutters, staring at her hands. Scorpius was being an arse, no question about it, and it appeared that her comment had done nothing but make him laugh harder. She couldn't see what was so damn funny about the whole 'dumped at the altar' thing, but he seemed to find it hilarious, and all it made her do was want to slap the smile right off of his pretty little face.

Once again she had to thank her mother for giving her the Granger part of her brain, because as soon as she raised her had to smack him silly, her logical side kicked in and she calmed herself down. Slapping the guy she was trying to get help from would probably be pretty counter-productive. So instead she gave him her sweetest smile she could muster, and leaned forward slightly in her armchair.

"Listen, Scor. Please." Rose couldn't help but notice the way he froze when she used his old nickname, guessing that it had been five years since he had heard that name. She paused, hoping he wasn't angry, but instead of saying anything he simply stared her down until she assumed she was meant to continue. "I know you and Lysander had your...problems. I can respect the fact his betrayal is funny to you. I can respect the fact that you didn't like him. Neither did I." He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, looking at her as if she had lost her mind. "I _loved_ him, Scor, and he hurt me. Bad. You know I'm not good with the whole revenge thing, not like you are. The only way I can get what I deserve is if you help me."

He was silent, and she couldn't help but figure that that was a bad sign. Scor _always _had something to say, positive or negative, and usually when he was silent it meant that something bad, or at the very least strange, was going on in his brain. It felt like ages were passing, but he was as still as a statue, so still that she had to wonder if he was waiting for her to leave.

"Fine," he spoke from the chair across from her. "Fine, I'll help you."

"I'm sorry?" Impossible. Simply impossible.

"I'll help you. But you owe me one, Rosie."


End file.
